Oh, You've Got to be Kidding Me
by Evil-Little-Leprechaun
Summary: A simultanious bashing of heads in two separate worlds, and suddenly I'm lying on the ground with a splitting headache and a fictional character asking me if I'm okay...
1. Chapter 1

**I honestly have no idea what possessed me to write this.**

**My History class has always been inspirational, but this is random on a whole new level. **

**Not the topic itself - plenty of people throw themselves into an anime world - but the fact that **

**I'm genuinely motivated to write it up.**

**Huh.**

**Grey, at WH, cleverly manages to get hit in the head with a football the exact same moment as I, Leprechaun, fall off my horse and smash my head against a pole. **

**Both with concussion, both to regain consciousness in different bodies in completely different dimensions;**

**only one to have heard of said dimension before (yay for Death Note manga!).**

**How will either of us cope?**

**How will things be resolved?**

**More importantly, how is Niden going to react?**

**Enjoy.**

**Yours insanely,**

**{E~L~L}**

**PS: I don't own Death Note, sadly, but I do own myself, Grey Sand and that mint-addicted Blood Steed...**

* * *

Ch1: Awake

Fuck_._

Now, I haven't spent the past few months working on curbing my vulgar teenage vocabulary for nothing. But, oddly, when one awakes to a splitting headache and other generally unbearable pains in their cranium region...

Well, profanities are the least of my concern. Ow. Ow, ow, ow.

Someone was shaking my shoulder, and I was aware of vague yet urgent, unfamiliar voices overhead. After some effort I managed to crack an eye open; a slit of annoyed stormy blue. I was about to open my mouth and tell whoever the hell was shaking my shoulder to stop before I punched them in the face, when I realised that the open sky above me and the faces that stared anxiously down at me did not at all correspond with my last memories of jumping Lady in the indoor school.

Damn head...

Ignoring the fact that the perfectly ordinary daylight seemed ready to scorch my retinas, I ordered my eyes to open fully. Slowly, sluggishly, they obeyed, and I got a half-decent view of my surroundings - well, as decent a view as one can get when they're lying on their back in a field with a load of people hovering over them. Ow.

A load of... Utterly unfamiliar people.

Okay, my memory isn't the best. Hell, it took me a couple of weeks to remember my best friend's name; it being hard to spell and pronounce aside, of course. But names were one thing, faces another. I never forgot a face.

I was one hundred percent sure that I had never seen any of these people - who clearly knew me - in my life. Ow.

"Grey... Grey! You okay?"

Uh... Except for that person. His face was mere inches from mine as he leaned over, his fiery blue eyes scrutinizing me with concern. His short blonde locks hung down, framing his face even at this angle.

....

My mind went blank with shock for a few moments.

Okay... I was hallucinating.

I've never hallucinated before, but this must be it, because there was no other possible explanation for Mello, of all people, to be looking down at me in concern. Nope. Not possible. Must be my head injury. Although, this all felt disturbingly similar to reality...

"Grey Sand, can you hear me?"

An elderly man pushed his way through the group and bent down beside me. Reflexively I tried to move away as he, a stranger, reached out to place a hand on my head, but the pain in that particular part of my body cruelly reminded me that movement in any shape or form was plain idiotic at this moment in time.

Wait... Did he just call me 'Grey Sand'?

That's the name of my... From Death Note...

The weirdness of the situation was too great, and my disorientated mind understandably shied away; before I knew it, the darkness had enveloped me once more.


	2. Chapter 2

**I honestly have no idea what possessed me to write this.**

**My History class has always been inspirational, but this is random on a whole new level. **

**Not the topic itself - plenty of people throw themselves into an anime world - but the fact that **

**I'm genuinely motivated to write it up.**

**Huh.**

**Grey, at WH, cleverly manages to get hit in the head with a football the exact same moment as I, Leprechaun, fall off my horse and smash my head against a pole. **

**Both with concussion, both to regain consciousness in a completely different dimension;**

**only one to have heard of said dimension before (yay for Death Note manga!).**

**How will either of us cope?**

**How will things be resolved?**

**More importantly, how is Niden going to react?**

**Enjoy.**

**Yours insanely,**

**{E~L~L}**

**PS: I don't own Death Note, sadly, but I do own myself, Grey Sand and that mint-addicted Blood Steed...**

* * *

Ch2: Denial

I always liked to make fun of people in denial. It was always so funny to watch people refusing to acknowledge an obvious fact, then point and laugh at them and go "HA! DENIAL!"

What? I never said I was a decent person.

Anyway, its a hell of a lot less amusing when you're the one struggling with such irrational thoughts of 'no, this isn't happening to me, for F's SAKE this IS NOT HAPPENING TO ME'. Especially when you're an intelligent teenager who's used to thinking somewhat rationally and not freaking out.

I am not freaking out. I am not freakin- ...

Damn. Denial again.

Let's focus on the facts. Yes, that's a splendid idea. Facts are nice and factual!

Focus, Lep. Focus. Be Captain Obvious and state what you know.

Okay, so I was obviously conscious. I was obviously in a bed, which was in a room, which was otherwise empty - thank GOD - of all life.

Does the potted plant count as life, or is it fake?

Never mind. Anyway, the room was dark-ish, due to the curtains being closed, but it was obviously daytime because there was light leaking out from behind them. Obviously. There was obviously a chest of drawers, a desk, a bedside locker and two doors, which meant that this was obviously a bedroom of some kind, and obviously not my bedroom or any other bedroom I've ever woken up in.

Now I'm disturbed.

Oh, and my head still hurt, obviously, and if I have to use the word obviously one more frickin' time I'll maul the next living thing that sets foot in this room-that-isn't-familiar.

Yeah.

Slowly, I slid out of the bed; and that's when I noticed that my body wasn't, well... Mine.

Oh, it wasn't far off. But I was too lean, too slender. My limbs were too fit, my hair too short and straight, and my hands clearly lacking the cracked dyness I'd got used to so many years ago. My left leg felt as good as my right, and despite my aching head my vision was perfectly good.

Hm... Mirror time.

After staring at the reflection that was mine-yet-not-mine for roughly eight minutes and forty six seconds, I came to terms with the fact that

a) I was in a different body; a body that looked strikingly similar to what I imagined my OC to look like

and

b) ... The chances of me being stuck in a different dimension - AKA the Death Note dimension - had just rocketed up by about seventy percent.

Fleck.

Yes, this had the potential to be extremely amusing and exciting and all that other unexpected-adventure crap, but the whole problem with that was, well... It was unexpected. And irrational. And totally, utterly bizarre.

Although, I had a Physics test on Thursday...

Before I could properly revel in the prospect of not having to deal with the boring academic normalities of home, my sensitive hearing picked up approaching footsteps.

**"Shit!"**

I dove under the covers.

Now, like any teenage girl who disobeys her parents, I'm exceptionally skilled at faking sleep. But pretending to be unconscious when your suspicious mother is checking you're in bed and pretending to be unconscious with a complete and utter stranger in the room, watching you, are two different situations entirely.

Still, I could probably get away with it if they hadn't heard me swear.

"I heard you swear. I know you're awake."

Crap.

Even worse was the fact that the person's voice was familiar. But staying under the covers was, contrary to popular belief, not a good way of making things go away, so I shoved the duvet off and scowled at the blonde chocaholic.

"Huh. Where am I, and why am I wherever I am? Hell, why are you here, too?"

Mello gave me a strange look, and snapped off a piece of chocolate from the bar in his hand.

"You're in your room, Grey. You got knocked out by a ball to the head during soccer. Roger wanted me to check in on you."

_"Grey... Grey! You okay?"_

_His face was mere inches from mine as he leaned over, his fiery blue eyes scrutinizing me with concern..._

Sure, Roger wanted him to check on me.

"Right.. I probably have concussion, then. That would explain the persistant headache. How long have I been out?"

Mello considered only briefly.

"It's 17:30 now, so about six hours. You're confined to bed rest until further notice, though. I'll tell the old man you're up."

..Even though everything he said I could understand, it still felt weird having a chat with a presumedly fictional character who seemed to be friends with me. Or rather, with Grey Sand.

I was still struggling to get over that.

"Sure, you do that."

Hopefully he'd be gone a while; to put it bluntly, I needed time alone to panic over my situation. Mello went to leave, but paused just out in the hallway and regarded me curiously.

"What exactly were you doing out of bed, anyway?"

Uh...

Well, I could hardly say 'Mello, I was staring at my reflection and freaking out over the fact that I appear to have been shoved into my character's body in an orphanage that doesn't exist. No, that wouldn't do at all.

"Looking at the ball-shaped dent in my skull via my mirror. Now go."

So I gave him a blunt, get-your-nose-out-of-my-life answer that would have made my OC proud. Thank God our personalities weren't that different; Mello only smirked and shut the door behind him, seeming all-too-used to such responses.

But in all fairness, this was one of L's potential successors. The guy was an impulsive, paranoid genius who clearly knew Grey well; It was unlikely that I could fool him - or the rest of the WH residents - for very long.

Damn, I should have pretended to be an amnesiac.

As I sat on the bed, wondering what the hell my plan of action should be - because as tempting as it was, living Grey's life here was not an option I could consider anything short of idiotic - I had a startling, and very frightening epiphany.

_'If Mello's still a kid - still alive - at WH, then it can't be 2010 here, which means...'_

Mello returned alone just then, with a fresh bar of chocolate.

"Hey, Linda's coming up with some foo-"

Even in my state of urgency, I was rather satisfied to notice that I was quick enough - and strong enough - to lunge forwards and pin him against the wall.

"Mello, **what year is it?"**


	3. Chapter 3

**Left things on a bit of a cliffhanger last time; I just love those things.**

**In answer to a certain someone's question (you know who you are)**

**yes, I have every intention of saving our favourite sweet-eating detective's life if possible.**

**If possible.**

**I mean, come on, a fifteen year old blonde against a criminal genius (AKA Kira)? **

**That's hardly going to end well.**

**Although I do have a Blood Steed on my side; assuming I can pursuade him not to kill me for being an 'imposter' o.0**

**I'm not too clear on dates, but I'm sticking to the manga as best I can. As far as I can tell Kira appeared on the scene in 2004, L died in 2006. The case was solved - and Kira/Light Yagami died - in 2010.**

**So, what year is it?**

**Mello will tell you shortly.**

**Enjoy.**

**Yours insanely,**

**{E~L~L}**

* * *

Ch3: 20 Questions

* * *

**"Grey, what the hell?"**

Mello glared down at me - yup, down; apparently I was every so slightly shorter than he was - and I gave him my best answer-my-question-bitch-or-die look.

I assume it worked better in Grey's body than it did back in mine. Either that, or Mello was aware that my OC didn't tend to bluff like I did.

**"What. Year. Is. It. **Is that such a difficult question to answer?"

Mello's striking blue eyes narrowed in that all-too-familiar suspicion, and suddenly our positions were reversed. I mentally cringed at what was to come, yet still had the time to take note of the fact that I was being pinned against the wall by one of my favourite anime characters.

Take that, fangirls back home.

"You're not Grey Sand. Who are you?"

And back to reality.

Ugh, I hate the 'Accusations & Interrogations' part. Now, let's see...

"That's completely irrelevant, Mihael Keehl.This is a matter of life and death!"

As expected, the use of his true name made him flinch in surprise. His grip slackened briefly, and his eyes widened, and I smoothly crushed his left foot with my right heel.

There we go. Now we both stood about a metre apart, his back to the wall and mine to the bed, staring each other down with wary hostility.

Sigh. And we'd been getting along so well until this point... Okay, that sounds delusional. Delusional is wrong - and mentally digressing in this kind of situation was idiotic. Focus, focus, focus.

"You better tell me what the hell you're on about right now, stranger. How do you know.. That name? And what's a matter of life and death."

Ah, now I had his attention. Now, we're getting somewhere.

"I know a lot of things, and you'd be wise to shut up and listen to them. Because I'm talking about the future - however near or far it may be - which currently makes it a matter of your life, and your death. Got it?"

Mello stared at me, his face now a mixture of emotions - still mostly negative, unfortunately - but seemed to have taken me at my word and had shut up.

Wow. I'd got the attention of one of my favourite anime characters, been pinned to the wall, pinned him to the wall and got him to shut up. This day just keeps getting better and better.

"Okay. Good. First things first. What year is it? Actually, screw that, what date is it?"

My voice was deceptively reasonable, and the blonde chocaholic sensed that. After only a brief moment's hesitation he answered,

"2004, September 22nd. Why is that so signifi-"

"Sh!"

I cut him off, raising a hand for silence as I wracked my brains to remember certain details of the manga. 2004...2004...

"You heard of the Kira case?"

His eyes narrowed slightly at the next question I shot at him; the tension in his shoulders was easy to see.

"Yeah.. It started up not long ago."

Yes. Yes, yes, YES.

L was alive! L WAS STILL ALIVE!

I didn't realise I'd spoken those thoughts out loud. If Mello had any doubts about my sanity before, he now looked like he'd reached the firm conclusion that I was mentally unstable. I refrained from coughing awkwardly, because I didn't feel like coughing awkwardly - more evidence for his case? - and strode towards the doorway. Mello almost moved to put more space between us, then changed his mind and planted himself firmly between me and the exit.

"Not so fast. You're not making any sense; you haven't told me anything!"

I considered that, feeling irrationally awesome as I did so.

"Hm... I guess I owe you some form of an explanation..."

I sighed, took a step back, and regarded him steadily.

" Apparently I bashed my head at about the same time as Grey's cranium got owned by a football, which somehow led to us miraculously switching bodies and dimensions through time and space."

I was really quite pleased with myself for coming up with such a non-pathetic, potentially plausible explanation. The 'through time and space' bit was just added on to make it sound better. Though Mello, as it turned out, didn't seem all too impressed.

"...That is the most pathetic excuse for an explanation I have ever heard. What are you, ten?"

I rolled my eyes and grabbed Mello's arm, pushing past yet pulling him after me in what was, again, a very smooth and satisfyingly unstoppable movement.

"Work with me here, Chocolate-boy. I hit my head and arrived here yesterday."

The blonde chocaholic probably gaped at the back of my head - I wasn't sure, as it was the back of my head - and after some effort managed to yank his arm out of my grasp.

"Stop right there. Where are you going?"

I stopped, and gave him a withering look.

"To inform that old man whom I harbor an irrational amount of distrust for that the world's greatest detective is going to die unless he hears what I have to say. Where do you think I'm going?"

This time, I can be certain that Mello's jaw did actually drop - if only ever so slightly. Really, I couldn't blame him for looking so stunned; I just kept dropping bombshell after bombshell on him. It was quite amusing, really.

"You're mental. You must be. None of what you're saying can be true!"

"I never lie."

"How would I know that?"

" Well, you're not the second-smartest WH kid for nothing!"

This was snapped over my shoulder as I abruptly started moving again; Mello hastily caught up, clearly offended by the jab at his ego, and strode alongside me.

"Hey.. How exactly do you know where the old man's office is?"

I gave him my trademark 'Insane Leprechaun' - as christened by my friends - crooked grin.

"Never doubt my sense of direction."

Mello eyed me, clearly uncertain as to what to make of this bizarre change. After my odd behaviour and then my grin - an expression that, no doubt, he didn't even know my OC's face could pull until now - 'Chocolate-boy' must have realised that this was no joke. For now, the blonde chocaholic seemed resigned to following along and not letting me out of his sight.

What, did he think I was going to bomb the place or spontaniously go on a killing spree like Beyond Birthday?

Well... He'd looked like L, and I clearly looked like Grey as I was in her body (still a creepy concept to accept)

...

Oh, the irony.

"So what do I call you?"

Mello asked rather suddenly as we neared Roger's office - I actually don't know how I knew where it was, but there you go - and I thought over that question for a long moment.

Then, a slow grin curved up my lips.

"Call me Leprechaun. Evil Little Leprechaun."


	4. Chapter 4

**Now things are starting to pick up from the introduction. **

**One of the great things about landing in an alternate dimension;**

**no one knows anything about you. **

**The Death Note cast have no choice but to refer to me by my amazing nickname! :])**

**Anyway, people might be wondering where that mint-loving Blood Steed has got to...**

**Dare read on to find out?**

**I don't own Death Note or any of its characters. I do, however, own Grey Sand, Niden, me, myself and I.**

**Enjoy.**

**Yours Insanely,**

**{E~L~L} **

* * *

_'The statistics of insanity is that one out of every four people have a mental illness. Look at your three best friends; if they're okay, then it's you.'_

_- anonymous_

* * *

It was dark.

No one could see me - nor could I see them - for I was surrounded by

everlasting, impenetrable blackness.

I was flying, travelling smoothly through time and space,

back to the future and forwards to the past,

unstoppable, untouchable...

"Leprechaun, get that box off your head and stop messing around!"

Damn.

Reluctantly I emerged from my latest method of staving off boredom - I mean, one can only stare out the window so long - discarding the large cardboard cube to meet Mello's irritated gaze.

"We're talking with L in less than twenty-eight minutes to share crucial information about the Kira case, and you're acting like a child."

I grinned at him with the delirious cheerfulness of someone who hasn't slept in over twenty-eight **hours**.

"I'm a fifteen year old girl. There's only so much idiocy I can hold in."

The blonde chocaholic simply stared at me.

"... I cannot believe I ever thought for a second that you were Grey."

"Neither can I. Aren't you supposed to be second ranking at Wammy's House?"

And... Gotcha. Mello's jaw clenched, and he pointedly turned his back on me to glare at the opposite wall, snapping off a piece of chocolate with more force than strictly neccessary. I turned my thoughts back to more important matters than the blonde's wounded ego.

For instance, why was there a cardboard box in the room? Was Flora really margerine?

And what's Mello's exact relationship with Grey, anyway?

"None of your business."

Apparently I'd been thinking out loud, again. A slow grin curled up the corners of my lips at Mello's snapped words.

"Technically it is, seeing as I'm stuck in her body. There's enough awkwardness between me and you as it is; I don't need to add sexual tens - "

"STOP. Right. There. It's platonic, okay? Purely platonic. We're friends."

Delighted with this recent, incredibly amusing turn of events, I pretended to consider this concept.

"Well, why the whole ' none of your business ' crap? A platonic relationship is nothing to deflect about."

Mello hesitated only slightly, but it was enough.

"... I was annoyed. And because since it is platonic, it really isn't your business."

"That's a pathetic excuse and I don't believe you."

I did believe him. Really. Well, kind of. I couldn't be sure. Still, I wasn't going to admit that now. Not when I was focused on shamelessly taking advantage of the chocaholic's one weakness; his emotions.

Thus, an impressive bout of pointless bickering began.

"So you're saying you're gay? The fangirls will love that."

"What?! No!"

By the time a rather wary-looking Roger poked his head around the door and indicated for us to come inside, I'd done a Near-worthy feat and managed to get Mello within seconds of throttling me. Fortunately, my appearance seemed to be deterring him from any homicidal impulses, however tempting they seemed every time I opened my mouth.

"Mello, please calm down. You and, er, Leprechaun can come in now; L is ready to speak with you."

Mello took a deep breath, let it out, glared at me, then walked inside. Deliberately not dwelling on the fact that L was alive, and that I was about to hear his awesome electronically-modified voice, I followed.

There it was. On Roger's desk was the laptop with the black calligraphic 'L' against a white background. Though there were chairs by the desk, Mello deliberately leaned against the wall and tried to make his expression unreadable. I merely walked up to about two metres in front of the desk, then let my legs collapse-and-fold under me to sit cross-legged on the floor.

Roger looked slightly perturbed by my manner. I suspected that was the point, but couldn't be sure; it's not like I think in steps.

No, I think in FERRETS!

Okay. That was random, even for me. The O.O.F.S. must be stronger than I thought.

"Evil Little Leprechaun. I understand you are not from this time, and hold information you believe to be important to the Kira case."

How I managed to maintain a somewhat serious expression, I do not know to this day. Not to be left out, Mello called from his place by the wall,

"That is correct. Leprechaun knows things that Grey couldn't possibly have known; this isn't a facade."

I shot him a 'stop-stealing-my-speaking-time-with-my-favourite-anime-character-or-I'll-gauge-your-eyes-out-with-a-spoon' look. It was super effective. L's modified voice spoke once more.

" I am aware that this is not an act, Mello. From my present video feed, I can deduce that Grey is not Evil Little Leprechaun."

Eying the laptop's webcam, I wondered whether he'd caught my potentially-homicidal look at Mello and if so, on what percentage of insanity the world's greatest detective would put me on.

"Evil Little Leprechaun, is there any knowledge you hold that can save lives in the next forty-eight hours?"

Ah, so he wanted proof before he had me flown off to Japan.

"Yup."

Jackpot. I had just the one. My trademark 'insane Leprechaun' grin took over my face.

"Give Raye Penber a fake I.D."

Mello raised an eyebrow.

"Who the hell is -?"

I smoothly interrupted him in a split-second decision that it was better to be overly cautious.

"In fact, screw it, just have all twelve of your agents work under fake names and give them fake IDs to match. I can't tell you anything that'll stop criminals from dropping like flies, except for the fact that it might be a good idea not to let their names leak out."

I paused, resting my hand on my chin thoughtfully.

"But Kira supporters will probably get ahold of most of them anyway, so that doesn't really solve anything... Yeah, let's just go with the fake names and IDs, see how that works out."

There was a silence, then L's 'voice' spoke again.

"I see. I will have the fake identification sorted. Leprechaun, do you know who Kira is?"

I could practically feel the eyes on me. How to respond? 'Yes, L, I do know who Kira is; he's exactly who you think he is, but me saying so won't change anything because you still won't have any evidence. Oh, and he's going to kill you because of his insane acting skills and paranoia. Isn't that charming?'

No, that wouldn't do at all.

"Yup, but that won't change anything. After all, you can hardly imprison someone just because a fifteen year old girl says they're Kira. Additionally, the killings wouldn't stop because Kira is annoyingly clever and will definitely have taken precautions for that kind of situation."

"I understand. It was a pleasure speaking with you, Evil Little Leprechaun. I have arranged for transport from England to my headquarters in Japan, and we will discuss things in further detail there. Goodbye."

I waved; the screen of the laptop faded to black. Mello jumped at the chance to question me.

"You know who Kira is?"

I stood up, rolled my eyes at him, saluted Roger, and padded out of the room with the chocaholic in hot pursuit as I headed back to my/Grey's room.

"Of course I do, nitwit. Why is everyone so interested in that? L knows, too - or at least, he suspects - but that won't get Kira behind bars."

"So you're not going to tell me."

"Hell no. You'll just do something stupid. Like brag to Near. Oh yeah, Near... I have to stalk him for a while before we leave."

"We? Wait, what?! Stalk Near?"

"Yes, we. I can't just leave the only person who knows anything about me behind, now can I? You're good company. Yes, stalk Near. I haven't seen him yet."

Mello was silent for a long moment. Maybe his brain was overloading with weirdness.

"Y-you want me to come with you? To work with L? And why are you so keen on stalking Near and not me?"

"Yes, you. Though you are supposed to be studying... What do you mean, why Near and not you? You're stalking me. Stalking you is hardly neccessary, unlike stalking Near."

A familiar monotone spoke up from behind.

"Why are you talking about stalking me?"

I spun around.

"NEAR!"

Evil Little Leprechaun used uber-glomp. Evil Little Leprechaun's attack missed!

Damn, I've got to stop making mental Pokémon jokes. Near - with a puzzle box under his arm - simply stared at me blankly, whereas Mello seemed stuck between glaring at Near and giving me a sincere WTF expression.

"Oh, no reason, except for the fact that I'mnotreallyGreyandIhave vital information concerningthe Kira case whichyou'llneverhearofbecauseI'mstealing Mello andflyingofftoLwithoutyou bye!"

When faced with your favourite anime characters and in doubt of what to do, run like hell. Preferably with one of said anime characters. My choice-that-wasn't-really-a-choice was Mello, seeing as he was motivated enough to run after me. I absently wondered whether Near ever ran, passed my/Grey's room door due to such a thought, skidded to a halt, and got flattened by a certain chocaholic speeding around the corner.

Ow.

"You know, there's a way of not crashing into unsuspecting civilians, Mello. It's called stopping."

Mello leapt up off me like he'd been burned. I got to my feet more slowly - I was the person with the soreness of being crashed into, after all - and gave him a smile meant to transmit the 'no hard feelings' vibe. I don't think it turned out very well; I'm not one for sincere niceness, unlike my OC. Still, Mello seemed to get the picture.

"I'm going to bed. Go... Pack, or talk to Matt or something."

"Leprechaun, it's 19:30."

"Not in Leprechaunland it isn't. Speaking of which, tell Matt I said hi and that I'll stalk him after I stalk Near and steal a piece of his jigsaw."

On that spontaniously-thought-up high note, I closed the door in his face. And locked it, for good measure, before retreating to the bathroom to change into something suitable for sleeping in. As I searched through my OC's wardrobe, alone, I felt an odd chill in the air. A shiver went down my spine, and the familiar paranoid feeling of being watched rose up.

"Oh, hell."

I shot into the bathroom, changed, and returned to the bedroom with clear, focused sinuses. Yup. The faint, sulfurous smell was there; I'd never smelt it before, but there was no mistaking it.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I very much regretted sending Mello away now. Because being alone with a Blood Steed when you're currently inhabiting its Possession's body and it knows you're not its Possession is, well...

I'd never actually considered such a situation before, but I'd assume it's bad. Just as the fact that I could not see said Blood Steed was bad.

"Okay, Niden, I can explain. Just show yourself, wouldya? It's beyond creepy, not seeing who I'm talking to."

I was briefly airborne; then my back hit the mattress, and Niden in all his terrifying-yet-awesome glory was standing at the foot of the bed with fangs bared, crimson irises glowing forebodingly. I could only stare at the real, flesh-and-blood version of my created species, unable to swallow, barely able to breathe.

**"You have thirty seconds to tell me who you are - who you ****really are**** - and where the hell Grey Sand is before I bite off some limbs."**

Oh, fuck.

* * *

**Ah, the splendidness of being trapped in a room with a homicidal monster at the end of a chapter. I do believe that is also known as a cliffhanger to potentially pissed off readers who hate cliffhangers, but think of it this way! Now I MUST write what happens next!**

**No, I won't be eaten. Thanks a lot, Longshot.**

**Yours Insanely,**

**{E~L~L}**

**PS: O.O.F.S = Overly Obsessive Fangirl Disorder. Made up by yours sincerely.**

**You know you have it.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I drew some epicpictures (yes, that is a real word; at least, it is in Leprechaunland) of Grey, Niden and Lep the other day; I MUST upload them for all to see! :D**

**Anyway, I digress. Chapter five is here at last. My MODs (Mocks Of Doom) are FINALLY over, so now I can get back to the important stuff. Like doodling and thinking up random funny moments with OCs, then vainly trying to fit a storyline around said random funny moments.**

**You have no idea how hard the latter can be for my poor. dysfunctional brain.**

**Again, I digress.**

**What was I trying to say again?**

**Oh, screwball it. Just read the damned chapter.**

**I don't own Death Note or any of its characters. I do, however, own Grey Sand, Niden, me, myself and I.**

**Thanks to all who have reviewed, especially the amazing mima1216.**

******Hat, Obsessor, this one's for you two. I think you'll get the references *winks***

**Enjoy.**

**Yours Insanely,**

**{E~L~L} **

* * *

I needed a hell of a lot more than thirty seconds to convince Niden not to turn me into a bloody mess on the floor.

About half an hour, actually. I talked - well, whispered; I didn't want people overhearing me attempt to placate an invisible sentient creature - and the Blood Steed paced, glaring through those marvellously crimson orbs of his and snapping a few questions in my general direction.

Man, his voice was awesome. I could have listened to his death-threats all day, but of course that wouldn't have been practical. Of course not.

Overall it went rather well, except for the time when I accidentally used sarcasm. Apparently, true to that random decision about his character I made not three days before I cracked my cranium and ended up in another dimension, Niden has about as much of a sense of humor as Near; that is, none at all. On the up side, I learnt the valuable lesson - that joking about a Possession and ripping off Invasion of the Body Snatchers to a Blood Steed is an idiotic thing to do - and managed to save my/Grey's head from being cracked open. Barely.

"Seriously, Niden, I was joking. I don't know what's going on, exactly, but I promise you I'll find a way to bring Grey Sand back."

Oh yeah, and I kinda tied myself up with an impossible promise. Still, I'm sure that won't end up stabbing me in the back and putting me in an awkward position at some point in the future. Of course not.

You know, now that I think about it, I probably should have known not to do either of those incredibly idiotic things. After all, I created the Blood Steed species in the first place.

Heh... I'm God.

"Leprechaun, what the hell are you smirking at? Are you even listening to me?"

I turned away from the plane window - and my train of thought concerning the analysis of my negotiations with Niden last night - and grinned eerily at him.

"I'm God!"

Mello blinked, and stopped chewing his Cadbury's dairy milk.

"...Come again?"

"Mello, I am God, the Lord Almighty. Even Kira has got nothing on me, because I actually created - HEY!"

I broke off from my maniacal reasoning to scowl darkly at him. Or rather, the hand that now grasped the reason I still functioned.

"Give. Me. Back. My. Ipod."

"Clearly music impairs your thought process. I'm confiscating it until we land."

"NO! I NEED IT!"

And he said,

"Tough!"

And I said,

"Give it!"

And he said,

"Make me!"

And I said,

"...'Kay!"

So I grabbed onto his arm and he grabbed my oesophagus

and I pulled at his hair and he twisted my wrist

and I kicked his chocolate under the seat and he screamed like my dog when you pretend to step on her...

And then things got pretty chaotic after that.

"MY CHOCOLATE! YOU LITTLE BITCH, HOW COULD YOU DO THAT?"

Mello screeched at me as he furiously attempted to retrieve his stashed portable chocolate factory, which was well and truly out of reach now that I'd put my legs to good use and formed a barrier, and keep my ipod away from me at the same time. It was not often that Mello got really worked up (which one might not realise, as I am exceptionally skilled when it comes to pushing all the wrong buttons until a person metaphorically explodes with anger) and so I dealt with it in the only acceptable manner.

I yelled right back.

"YOU STOLE CASTIEL Junior The Second! IT WAS JUSTICE ON MY BEHALF!"

"Excuse me, can you please keep it dow -"

"GO TO NECROPOLIS, YA FLAMING MUPPET!"

The traumatised stewerdess fled, probably to get reinforcements to deal with the insane pair of teenagers. Mello glanced in her general direction, distracted, for about 0.6 of a second, which I used to bite his hand and successfully recapture ' The precious '. Mello didn't react too well.

"CHRIST, LEP! WHAT THE HELL?"

With my free hand, I shoved his bag into his chest in a generous act of divine retribution (What? I like that phrase!) then leaned back, plugged in my headphones, and closed my eyes.

____

' I see your dirty face,  
High behind your collar  
What is done in vain  
Truth is hard to swallow  
So you pray to God  
To justify the way you live a lie, live a lie, live a lie  
And you take your time  
And you do your crime  
Well you made your bed  
I'm in mine... '

"Sir, we've had some complaints from the other passengers about the noise volume here. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's been sorted out. Sorry for the disturbance."

Even to me, Mello sounded strained and pissed off as he snapped off a chunk of chocolate and dealt with the bemused flight staff.

Panic, chaos, and general disorder. My work here is done.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chuck, I feel so awful for not updating. I can't believe I left you guys hanging around, waiting for what happens next - **

**oh, screw this. **

**I'm lazy, I'm shameless, and I regret nothing.**

**And I just spilt my milkshake.**

**Shitcakes.**

**Anyway, this chapter is really the true start of things, as it's where L and Light/Kira and the Task Force come in. Chuck only knows how this maniacal plotline will conclude, but I've already got ideas for a sequel...**

**What? **

**It seemed like a good idea at the time!  
Hehe, that's turning into my tagline...**

**Enjoy.**

**Yours Insanely,**

**{E~L~L}**

* * *

_Oh, why make me feel like this? It's definitely all your fault. - anon_

* * *

So, overall, the plane flight went rather smoothly. We took off, we flew, Mello and I didn't kill each other, we landed, I stole a muffin that Mello had to pay for, and then we waited.

Have I ever mentioned exactly how much, to three decimal points of preciseness, that I absolutely and unchangably despise waiting in airports? Or any other kind of ports, really. Or any kind of place you wait at for any length of time. Like chiropractors and dentistries.  
Dentistries is a word. Really.  
On the up side, though, we got a taxi-limo thing, which I enjoyed immensely until Mello started screaming at me.

"Sweetapple... I've never been inside a limo before."

" Leprechaun! For God's sake, get your head back inside the vehicle before it gets knocked off!"

, though, he had a point in a roundabout kind of way; aside from being socially frowned upon - as many fun things in life are - sticking your head out of the window isn't all that pleasant when it's positively BUCKETING rain. The lecture about pnuemonia and other cold-and-wet related ailments was unneccessary, though, as was the order to change clothes when we got to our hotel.  
" I never get colds. "  
" Fine. Suit yourself. "  
I suited myself just splendidly.

"... You did not just lick my chocolate. "

" Of course not, that would be unhygeinic. I merely tasted it with my tongue."

"THAT'S THE SAME THING, YOU SICK FREAK!"

Then I spent about twenty minutes in an intense staring/profiling match with the world's greatest detective while Mello holed himself up in the bathroom.

L won as soon as Watari came into the room with pancakes.

We settled in, I was questioned, and Mello was filled in on the case details while I sulked at the fact that everyone had a laptop except me. Then Watari gave me some free pencils and paper, which I considered to be a satisfactory substitute.

What? I'm a child at heart.

Overall, everything was just peachy until L announced that he wanted me - without Mello, who was glued to the laptop - to meet the Task Force with Watari. L would, as usual, be present through the laptop, to explain the situation as well as to observe interactions for his own intuitive theorising. See? I'm not that oblivious.

So I stood and acted reasonably sane before the only remaining members on the case - Aizawa, Ide, Mogi, Ukita, Matsuda, and Yagami himself. I think I was doing a fairly good job, too; Matsuda, at least, was happy to chat with me, and I hung out at the station until a certain someone's 'perfect' son showed up oh-so-thoughtfully with food from home.

Then it all careened downhill and burst into flames.

Now, just for future reference, I am not a suicidal person. Yes, I am admittably rather impulsive and... irrational at times, but never suicidal. As far as I can remember, I have never consciously signed my own death warrant.

Until today.

"NO Leprech - jeez, somebody restrain her!"

"I'M GONNA RIP THE FLESH FROM YOUR CRANIUM! GRAAAAAAGHH! COME HERE, YOU EGOTISTICAL SHITFACE! I FLEPPING HATE YOU!"

Yeah.

So maybe I wasn't particularly subtle in declaring my dislike of Light i'm-a-gaY. But could you blame me? According to what I'd been told, all FBI agents had been killed off despite my request for them to use fake - including Raye, who'd stupidly assumed Light couldn't be Kira and had given his real name - in the past 48 hours, Naomi Misora was a missing person, and the cocky bastard had come within throttling range with a charming smile and a proferred hand in greeting.

Needless to say, it got very ugly very fast.

Kira was flepping lucky that he had the Task Force and Watari there to protect him from my infernal wrath; I only got to punch him in the face once and briefly strangle him with both hands before I was pulled off and banished back to the hotel.

I spent the next two hours sitting in 'my' bed, sulkily consuming the majority of sweet foodstuffs in the suite Mello and I currently shared, listening to heavy metal and considering whether my actions would put me on Kira's 'bad person' list. It took a while for the reality of the situation to sink in, and when it did I - understandably - began to feel some concern over whether I should use precautionary protection in the future; after all, I didn't want to die. Still, Kira's too much of a conceited assbutt to do the Eye Trade... Right?

Maybe I should wear sunglasseses and a hat, just in case.

Or a Halloween mask.

Or a helmet.

Or simply stay indoors with a helmet and draw the curtains and let nobody in.

...

"I am so fu-**aaachoo**!"

* * *

SEVERAL SLEEPLESS HOURS AND A BISCUIT LATER

* * *

For the 517th time, I sneezed; the jerk that overcame my frame caused the last forkful of maple-syrup toast to fall to the floor. My heart wrenched in briefly overwhelming grief at the sight.  
" Melloooh... I've dot the shniffles. "  
I gave the blonde a mournful look. It wasn't very effective.  
" So? "  
The chocaholic wasn't as sympathetic as I'd hoped. Ignoring his brusqueness - he was just still pebbled by the fact that I'd coloured his hair with a pink highlighter while he'd been asleep - I sighed, lifted myself from the couch, and limped to the bathroom ( it wasn't because the damage in my leg had magically surfaced in this body; I'd tripped up the stairs. Again. ). Nidenski didn't ' do ' aeroplanes ( or travelling at all, really ) so there was a blissful absence of death threats hanging around.

Ah. Yes. Death.

Need to do something about that...

" Get dressed; we're going out, " Mello called suddenly. I presumed he'd just received a text/order/startling epiphany of how much he wanted to spend time with me. Heheheh, the amusment of alleged plausibilities...  
" I can't go out. " I coughed weakly for good measure.  
" I'm sick. "  
" Boohoo. Hurry up. "  
" You hurry up. "  
" And put on a coat!"  
" You put on a coat. "

Feathering goat-scrapping mattress of a sodden peestick...


End file.
